


Santa, Baby

by Burning_Up_A_Sun



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Drabble Sequence, M/M, Meet-Cute, Santa Claus - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-27 00:44:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 1,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17152112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Burning_Up_A_Sun/pseuds/Burning_Up_A_Sun
Summary: Sid’s alone and lonely til Santa shows up





	1. The Arrival

**Author's Note:**

> This is a 12-Drabble fic for the  Twelvetide Drabble 2018
> 
> The prompt for 12/24 was **An arrival.**

The problem with living alone is it’s just so —alone. 

Which doesn’t usually bother Sid. His feet are up warming by the fire, pear brandy in one hand and a book about the Maritimes and the Great War in the other. 

Only. 

He’s too damn hot. He hates pears. And he’s alone on Christmas Eve instead of with someone he loves; the only thing more boring than this book is his love life. 

Sid begins reading again. _So boring._

The doorbell rings rapid fire a half-dozen times. Sid drags himself to the door. 

“Ho! Ho! Am Santa here for party!”


	2. Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Santa pushes his way into Sid's living room and Sid hears the beginning notes of Santa Baby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is silly, ridiculous, I have no idea where it's going, and it's totally unbeta'd. Enjoy.

Sid gapes at the man on his front porch. He’s too tall, too thin, too young, and too hot to be Santa. 

“Ho Ho—”

“Let me stop you there.” Sid holds up his hand. “Wrong house. No party.”

Santa shakes his head and pulls a piece of paper in his oversized, red velvet suit. “Mr. Crosby? East—”

Sid nods. 

“Is surprise from friend.” He pushes his hat back from his forehead, grinning.

“Who?” Sid demands. It’s freezing, and he wants to get back to his book and his drink. “I bet it was Tanger. Or Flower. Probably Tanger—” 

“Can come in? We figure out but is cold outside for people from Pittsburgh.”

“I’m not—I’m Canadian. It’s not cold,” Sid sputters, ignoring he was freezing. 

Santa pushes past Sid and looks around. “Hey. No party is here.”

_No shit, Santa,_ he wants to say. “I said that.” 

“No problem.” 

Santa drops his gift sack on the couch, pulls out his phone, and the beginning notes of _Santa Baby_ fill the room.

Sid closes the front door and stares. _"What_ are you doing?”


	3. Headache

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re a stripper?!”
> 
> The prompt is: Headache. Or Head Ache.

Santa pushes Sid onto the couch, opens Sid’s legs, and stands between them. He drags his hand down Sid’s chest, his fingers lingering at Sid’s belt. 

“What the fu—“

Santa holds a finger to Sid’s lips—and Sid’s lost. Confused. A little horny. A little hard. A real head ache. 

_Santa baby, slip a sable under the tree for me/ Been an awfully good boy/Santa baby._

Santa rolls his hips, and he’s so close to Sid’s mouth. He turns slowly, and when he’s facing Sid again, he strips off his jacket, and it falls to the floor. 

“You’re a Santa stripper,” is all Sid manages, staring at the expanse of Santa’s pecs.


	4. Friendship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sid doesn’t know who sent Santa Stripper to him, but that’s one hell of a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I believe this may be the most ridiculous thing I've ever written...even worse than the Cabin Pressure/OMGCP crossover. I'm not even sorry.

Santa turns and tears away his red velvet pants. They’re gone, on the floor with the jacket. When he looks over his shoulder and smiles, Sid barely notices because all he sees is Santa’s thick ass, overflowing the tiny red satin briefs.

Santa drops it; the beat changes, and he twerks, hitting Sid’s knees each time he shakes his ass. Each jiggle leaves Sid speechless. His heart pounds like _he’s_ been dancing, and he wants to touch every inch of Santa; instead, he just stares. 

But when Santa turns back, straddles Sid’s legs, jerks his hips, his cock is at Sid’s mouth level. Without thinking, Sid drags his tongue up the red satin. 

Santa slides his hands behind Sid’s head and holds him in place. Sid doesn’t know who sent Santa Stripper to him, but that’s one hell of a friend.


	5. Loss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   
> Don't call me Santa...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woohoo. up to date with this.

“Wait, wait!” Sid says, his voice muffled against Santa’s torso. 

Santa stops thrusting his hips, and Sid (with incredible willpower) pushes him off his lap. “Not that I don’t appreciate it, but—who the hell hired you?” He’s already feeling the loss of Santa’s thighs bracing his, the heat of his body against Sid’s.

Santa grabs his pants from the floor and digs through the pocket. “Letang and Hornqvist,” he reads from the receipt. “Wives saw me at bachelorette party, tell them. They send me to you because I’m best.”

Santa tucks his thumb in his Speedo-sized briefs and preens. 

_He’s got good reason to be proud,_ Sid thinks, hoping the bulge in his jeans isn’t as obvious as he knows it is. “Look, do you have a name? I can’t keep thinking of you as Santa Claus.” 

“I’m Evgeni, but you call me Geno, not Santa. Because I’m come more than once a year.” He laughs at his own ridiculous joke, and against his better judgement, Sid joins in. 


	6. Atonement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sid's no priest, celibate to atone for some sin.
> 
>  

If someone said to him, “What’s the wildest thing you could ever imagine happening to you?” Sid would’ve said, winning two more Cups. No. The Cup, taking the Conn-Smythe, and the Lady Byng, Rocket Richard, the Hart, and the Art Ross Trophies all in one season. That would be the craziest thing.

Hot stripper Santa giving him a lap dance? 

_Never_ would have made the list. 

“I’m finish dance?” Geno asks, his thumb hovering over the pause button of his iPhone. His eyes drift from Sid’s face to the hard outline in Sid’s jeans. 

It’s been too long since Sid trusted another person; this dancer is probably a stupid choice. But he’s no priest, celibate to atone for some sin. 

“Oh, yeah,” Sid says, relaxing into Geno’s touch.


	7. Unlock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sid wants to lose himself in Geno.

Geno slaps Sid’s hands onto his ass, and Sid’s holding more skin than silk, which is better than okay to him. Geno’s ass is tight and well-muscled, thick like a hockey player’s. Sid grips it, and each time Geno rolls his hips, Sid feels the muscles shift and move under his fingers. 

As the song winds down to its last chords, Geno nuzzles Sid, dragging his nose up Sid’s neck to his ear. Sid’s so hot, so ready that he’s squirming under Geno like a teenager. 

What Sid _wants_ is to lose himself in Geno. In intense-hot then sweet-slow kisses. To learn the plains and dips of his abdomen. To fuck or get fucked, it doesn’t really matter. Just that the night would last for hours and days, and they’d both be too exhausted to move.

What Sid feels is visceral, base, like something deep inside has been unlocked. 

But this isn’t that. This is a Santa Strip-o-gram, here to dance then leave.


	8. Holy Mary, Mother of God

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the fucking hottest thing that’s ever happened to him with clothes on. 
> 
>  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the prompt for this was: Mary, the Mother of Jesus - parents/meet the parents/parenting. I did the best I could. lol

The last notes fade.

As Eartha Kitt begs Santa to _Hurry, tonight,_ Geno is still. He straddles Sid’s lap, his hips forward. Sid can’t remember how to breathe. This is the fucking hottest thing that’s ever happened to him with clothes on. Fuck. Even without clothes on.

Sid looks up at Geno, and this is Sid’s entire world right now: Geno’s eyes, dark and heavy. His lips parted as his tongue pushes out to wet them. Geno’s body thrums with sex. It rolls off him, from his arms that bracket Sid’s, his thighs that lie against Sid’s. But mostly, Sid feels it in the press of Geno’s dick against his. 

_Holy Mary, Mother of God._ “Merry Christmas to me,” Sid says.


	9. Red Pants Monday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "If I'm move, I'm come."
> 
>  
> 
> **Christmas Eve was a Monday...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, 9 chapters total, not 12. My mojo was derailed--my oldest kid was in the hospital for 10 days with pneumonia, but we're home and all is well now.
> 
> **1000% unbeta'd and now you know how my mind works LOL

Sid drops his forehead to Geno’s shoulder, hoping he can even out his ragged breaths. Geno’s is the same; Sid lays his hand on Geno’s bare chest and feels the staccato beat of his racing heart. 

“That was an incredible lap dance,” Sid says, his voice thick and low. “Like, if you don’t get off my lap, I’m gonna come.”

“Is big problem,” Geno says on a breath, “Because if I’m move, I’m come.”

Sid looks at Geno’s face to see if he’s making fun of him, but Sid’s pretty sure Geno’s telling the truth. His cheeks are flushed; his wide, dark eyes flicker between Sid’s lips and eyes. With a wicked smile, Geno shifts his hips, and Sid whines because the pressure is too much. And it’s not nearly enough.

“What are we gonna do then, because that sounds awesome.”

“I’m show you.” Geno traces the curve of Sid’s ear with his nose, and the heat of desire in Sid’s belly flares dangerously. He tilts his head as Geno brushes his lips down Sid’s neck, pausing once to nip a bruise. Sid’s groan slides into raspy moan, and he’s not embarrassed.

Geno tugs the neck of Sid’s shirt away and drags his tongue along Sid’s collarbone. Sid holds him there, and Geno whispers a _yes._

Sid wants him to say yes to so many things—to stripping each other and exploring every line; to falling asleep and waking up together; to spending time growing to know each other. 

“Wait.” 

Sid lifts Geno’s head so he can look into his eyes. “I don’t want this.”

Geno’s forehead wrinkles, and he looks like maybe he doesn’t understand the English words. 

“I mean—I do. I really, really do.” Sid nudges Geno off his lap; when they’re both standing, he barely pulls his eyes away from Geno’s thick cock that’s pushing out of the brief’s waistband. The tip glistens, and Sid wants to tongue the wet satin. Instead, he rearranges himself in his jeans. “But I think—maybe—I want more than a Santa booty call.”

Geno bites his lip and stares. Sid knows he’s mangling this, fucking it up. 

“Go out with me. Dinner. A movie. Hell, the Bahamas. I don’t care.” He rushes the words, smushing them together, trying to get them out before Geno can call him a weirdo and walk out. “Just—you’re hot, and gorgeous, and you seem like fun, and…” Sid’s voice trails off because what else is there to say.

“Yes,” Geno agrees with an eyebrow waggle. “I'm much fun. I’m show you.” But he steps back into his red suit.

Sid grins at him like he really is Santa. “Maybe next time, I’ll dance for you.”

“I’m see your moves on ice, Sidney Crosby,” Geno says, with a wink. “I can’t wait to see your moves with me.”

**Author's Note:**

> (In case you’re also reading the Harry Potter advent fic, I’m still working on it. The next chapter will be up this week.)


End file.
